A burger topped with five slices of bacon, four slices of cheese, two fried eggs, mayo, lettuce, tomato, and onion between two grilled cheese sandwiches.
A sandwich that’s sandwiched between two sandwiches. What more need be said?
MM is probably one of my most unapologetic, candid friends, especially when it comes to the female persuasion. So when he mentioned that he had paid a visit to swingers joint Club Wicked, and in particular its upstairs, members-only Shlomo’s Penthouse, I was completely unfazed.
Well. Unfazed in the sense that he brought a date there. But I’d never talked to anyone who’d been to a sex club before, and as is always the case when I talk to someone about something unfamiliar, I unleashed a stream of endless questions.
Some things never change when you go clubbing: There will always be the creepy, rotund old dudes trying to make themselves at home in your personal space and there will always be the leering younger dudes wanting you in their personal space. But if you find yourself at El Convento Rico in Toronto, throw some drag queens in the mix and it will definitely be a night to remember.
He may be benign and who the hell knows if he actually exists, but Charlie the ghost can still scare the crap out of me.
A few entries ago, I mentioned my “dealings” with Charlie, concluding with “But if the day ever comes when Charlie finds a way to say hi back to me, then I think I’ll be allowed to be scared.”